That Old Story
by Stolen Childe
Summary: Dean gets a call from Garth about suspicious demon activity and it just so happens to coincide with Castiel's own personal mission. Though, as Winchesters, no job ever goes off without a hitch. (Slash)


**Title:** That Old Story

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** The characters featured herein do not belong to me, they belong to Kripke and Co.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Language, canon-typical violence/scariness, minor slash, established relationship

**Pairings/Characters:** Dean/Castiel, Season Seven/Eight ensemble

**Spoilers/Timeline:** This was written and occurs during the season eight mid-season hiatus but coincidentally contains vague spoilers up to and including 8.11

**Word Count:** 12 700

**Summary:** Dean gets a call from Garth about suspicious demon activity and it just so happens to coincide with Castiel's own personal mission. Though, as Winchesters, no job ever goes off without a hitch.

**Author's Notes:** All right, this was written and completed during the mid-season hiatus, I had wanted to get it published before the show's return but life got in the way. That having been said, it was written with very, very vague spoilers (I saw the 8.10 promo and knew it would be Castiel's last episode for a while) quite a bit of it ended up occurring in some shape or form in the show itself but this is written with a slash and fandom twist and it has a bit of a better ending than the actual episode. So you can say this as an alternate episode 8.10. I hope everyone enjoys!

Big thanks to my beta Dapperscript!

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**That Old Story**

Dean was lying down in their small wooden row boat, his eyes closed to the harsh light of the midday sun, Castiel manning the oars. Their lines and tackle were on either side and they were taking a break until the fish decided to crawl closer to the surface again, when the heat of the day began to subside. He heard the soft cawing of gulls in the distance, the gentle pop and splash of small breakers on the side of the boat and the soft sift of Castiel when he decided to row them a few feet around the centre of the lake.

It was idyllic – until his phone rang.

Dean frowned but didn't open his eyes, just grunted softly and stirred against the lifejackets he was using as a makeshift mattress. He knew he expressly forbade the use of cellphones on this trip and in fact had left his in his jacket inside their rented pick-up. The grating sound faded to little more than a dull buzz and Dean allowed himself to relax again. That is, until the phone trilled again, this time seemly more harsh than the last.

He sat bolt upright and his eyes shot open, but instead of encountering the mildly curious face of Castiel framed in the smooth backdrop of a lake the colour of his eyes, he encountered the harsh orange-red glow of the 'no vacancy' fluorescent sign outside of their motel room window and comparative darkness.

Dean groaned and fumbled around beside him for his cellphone. Sam slept on, deaf to the entire thing – the bitch. Dean, without glancing at the tiny contraption, smashed his thumb down on what he hoped was the answer key – but he didn't give two fucks if it was the ignore key - and wedged the phone between his cheek and his pillow.

"Damnit, Cas you asshole, if this you," only a few people had this particular number, "we are going to have one long, punishing conversation."

"Wow there, TMI, Man! _Hola amigo_! _¿Cómo estás?_"

"Garth? Dammit, do have any friggin' idea what time it is?"

"Well, I'm sailing the sunny coat of Cali, Dude, and it's a bright, beaut of a morning!"

"I'm certainly not the hell on the California coast, Garth, if the foot of snow has anything to say about it!" Dean snapped.

"Right, sorry, _cúmbila_, I forgot you bros were Nor-Easters. Forgive the slight."

"Yeah, well, demons tend to avoid the warm, sunny States, never figured that one out," Dean grumbled, finally pushing himself to a half-seated position against the pillows.

"Huh, maybe it reminds them too much of _su casa_."

Dean snorted in wry amusement, "Yeah, I can see that about LA especially. Dude, what's with all the Spanish?"

"Oh! I'm doing an online course, not much else to do while babysitting, other than answer phones. Speaking of, I got a call from your Girl Friday, said that there was a disturbance in the force and that the Golden Trio may wanna take a peek – her words."

Dean frowned and pushed the thin sheet away, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed as he groped around in the dark for his jeans. "Girl Friday?"

"Wow, she figured you'd know her if I quoted that back to you. Tall, skinny, red-head?"

"Disturbance in the force… Charlie? What the hell? She showed up? I thought she was going to go deep under cover in Mordor or something."

"'One simply doesn't walk into Mordor,'" Garth quoted. "I'd say 12 Grimmauld Place would be a better analogy with this one. Man, she was a babe!"

"Sorry, Dude, she plays for the opposite team."

"Damn, good ones are always taken or gay," Garth sighed.

Dean rolled his eyes. "All right, Garth, just tell me what she said, and how the hell did she figure the trio? We never mentioned Cas."

"Girl's got eyes everywhere. Guess she's been keeping them peepers peeled on both the nasties that go bump in the night and you three. She seemed the paranoid type. Anyway, she mentioned that there was another dig going on, this one in some one horse town in Nevada: Faith's Leap."

"Faith's Leap?" Dean furrowed his brow and reached across to snag Sam's Android phone, typing in the name. "Never heard of it."

"It's tiny, Dude, right in the desert, 'bout 1100 people. Apparently the town sits over an underground lake or something. Doesn't ever leech to the surface, but if you drill down long enough you hit it. Some poor desperate settler probably found it by accident and, well, where there's water, there's folk. Hey… guess you get your sunny skies and warm weather after all!"

"Yeah, guess we do," Dean said distractedly. "Did Charlie have any more details, Garth?"

"Nope, no more deets, other than her name is Devon now. She knows it definitely wasn't Levi's though. Sam took care of a lot of those before he went off the grid last year. I'm thinking demons. Don't know why they'd be digging though. I thought their goal was always up."

"Well, I may have an idea. Thanks Garth. We'll let you know how it goes."

"No problem, Pal. Talk to ya."

"Oh, hey, before you go, how're the Mrs. and the Kid?" Dean smirked.

Garth chuckled, "Good one. They're cool, Mrs. Tran basically whipped this vessel into shipshape and I think Kevin is just liking being a kid for a bit again. No problems since you dropped them with me."

"Good. Well, take it easy, Garth."

"Always do!"

Dean listened to the dull drone of the dial tone before the increasingly fast and annoying sound got the better of him. He clicked it off and began plotting their course for Faith's Leap, Nevada. Jesus, the name _already_ didn't bode well. But they were two days out and sooner tended to be better than later. He tossed a pillow from behind him and smirked as Sam stuttered awake, spluttering into the darkness.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"Garth called."

Sam sat up quickly at that one, and even in the dim light Dean could suddenly see how sharp and alert his brother's eyes were.

"Kevin okay?" Sam asked.

Dean blinked. "Ah, yeah, fine. Garth just called us about a job. Remember Charlie?"

Sam visible relaxed. "Yeah, of course. Hermione."

Dean snorted, "Whatever. Anyway, she's been keeping her eye on the radar apparently and she found something demon-y, in a place in Nevada called Faith's Leap. We're gonna check it out, make sure the entire thing isn't run-over by Storm Troopers or whatever."

"You're such a geek," Sam chortled.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you go jiggle your wand or whatever?"

"At least mine is _literature_."

"Dude, _Star Wars_ totally has literature. There's a shit-ton of novels."

Sam stretched up off the bed. "That's not literature, Dean. That's pulp fiction."

"Now that was a good movie, Travolta or not," Dean mused, heading to the washroom.

Sam rolled his eyes.

xx

The drive was arduous and boring; they still weren't one hundred percent okay with each other so by the time they reached the town over from Faith's leap (because there was no way Dean was camping out in a potentially demon infested town) tensions were high and they were sniping at each other. Finally, as they pulled into the parking lot, Dean conceded to turn down his blaring music and Sam breathed a vocal sigh of relief.

"Thank God," the taller man said.

"Or whoever," Dean couldn't help but snipe back as he eased the Impala into the park and turned her off. He climbed out and shut the door. Sam did the same but slammed it closed with far more force than necessary. Dean winced as the usual creak almost became a whine and the entire body of the Impala shuddered.

"Fuck, watch it, Dude!" Dean snarled.

Sam didn't answer, just leaned against his side of the car and waited for Dean to give him his bag, which Dean did, but he threw it against his chest so hard Sam was almost winded. Sam made no move to go in and book a room so Dean thanked the stars for small miracles. Maybe the fresh air would relax the kid a bit and they could have a civil conversation when they got back to the room. Dean paused mid-step as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Dean returned with two sets of key and tossed one at Sam, who caught it instinctively and raised an eyebrow.

"You're really that pissed about the car? Christ, Dean, I'll detail it for you."

"No, asshole, just got a text from Cas. Unless you want to sleep the night away with the winged wonder making doe-eyes at you, then by all means, I'll the tell the chick in the office to drop the second room."

"No, no!" Sam was quick to say. "Besides, it's never me he makes doe-eyes at and we both know it."

"Shut-up." Dean ignored how his ears warmed up and blamed it on the bright desert sunshine. He didn't admit out loud that they were a little past the dewy-eyed stage, hence the second room. With Cas, it was never really a guarantee what the angel would be up for but Dean learned after one or two uncomfortable romps in the backseat to never assume.

Sam went off and dropped his duffle in his own room then met Dean back at his a few moments later. The younger man chose not to comment on the single bed in the room, save for a lingering glance. For that, Dean was grateful.

His brother wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't blind to Dean's… thing, whatever it was. Dean couldn't for the life of him put a name to it, but they never really discussed it. It just wasn't one day and then it was.

"So, we calling truce?" Sam offered up unceremoniously as he sat across from Dean at the tiny dining table.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "So, Charlie didn't have much to go on – Oh, she's Devon now by the way – but I got Garth to send over what she did manage to dig up." Dean opened his email and forwarded the message to Sam, who smirked faintly at Garth's own special brand of communication before he got to the imperative things.

"So, people have reported the smell of rotten eggs having started about a week ago, they blame it on leeching ground-water but weren't able to find any traces. There have also been an odd amount of rooms booked in the area and strangers showing up kind of randomly. Looks like the official word is an archaeological dig because someone apparently reported evidence of a lost Navajo community."

Dean snorted without looking up. "Now that's just stupid. There weren't Navajo in Nevada, it was primarily the Mojave Nation[1]. Demons could at least do their research before cooking up a bogus archaeological dig."

Sam paused and started at his brother for numerous silent seconds. "Dude, really?"

"Dude, they were here first, due respect, right? Plus, way too many ancient curses to not appreciate this country's First People. Especially in our line of work."

"You were watching the History Channel with Cas again, weren't you," Sam said flatly.

"Shut-up."

Castiel arrived not too long after that and the three of them had a quick dinner. Well, Dean and Sam had dinner, Castiel curiously ate some French fries and tried on multiple occasions to take a bite of Dean's burger without the human noticing.

"Dude, just ask for one next time, it's not like I'm gonna say no," Dean huffed, as he finally surrendered his half-eaten burger to Castiel and settled down to morosely eat his remaining French fries.

"I don't need to eat, Dean," Castiel replied.

"Doesn't mean you don't like to, Cas," Dean shot back.

Sam watched them, gently amused, and Dean ignored the knowing smirk on his brother's lips.

"Look, Man, this offer remains for the next five seconds then I'm devouring that bad-boy. So you want it, take it now," Dean demanded. "Five, four, three…" Dean never made it to 'two' Castiel reached out and snatched the burger from the wrapping, enjoying each savoury bite.

xx

Research exhausted, the only thing left to do was sleep and then head out to investigate the town the next morning. As Dean could have predicted, Castiel didn't instigate anything during the night and Dean was never the one to instigate. Castiel knew his way around sex well enough, but Dean wasn't sure if he was shy, uncertain, or just horny so rarely that only on occasion did he decide to indulge in Dean. It was a little disappointing but Dean shrugged it off soon enough. He was still getting laid a hell of a lot more than he had been in the last few years and that was a bonus in his book. Really, when it came right down to it, it was just nice to have someone in the bed next to him even if that someone didn't sleep.

Dean wondered if he would ever really figure out what this thing was between them. This thing that they'd been playing with for the last four years off and on as the occasion called for it.

It had started out as sex; Dean had been determined for Castiel not to die a virgin. His seemingly inevitable death never came, of course, (that first time anyway) but Dean had gained himself a fuck-buddy. So yeah, at first it was just sex and then despite his best intentions it had transformed into something more. Connection, and good lord, _intimacy_. And frankly, it was nice.

Then the shit hit the fan with the Apocalypse that wasn't and things kind of tail-spinned from there. Castiel had flitted off to Heaven and Dean had dragged himself to Lisa's with his tail between his legs. Then Cas came back and Lisa was out of the picture and things had started up again, only for them to fall apart with Castiel's betrayal, then apparent death. Though Cas did come back (he always came back) and that night, just before they ganked Dick, well, things were okay again. Then Purgatory happened and Dean got out and was left alone again. Since Castiel's return though, they'd slowly been building trust between them, rekindling their friendship and their something more. Dean was trying, he was trying really, really hard and things were good. But still…

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked sleepily into the dark.

"Yes, Dean."

"You okay?"

"Yes, Dean."

"You've been acting weird, kinda quiet, ever since that cartoon shit."

"Have I?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Dean waited for Castiel to explain, but he didn't. Dean wanted to urge Castiel to talk to him, but he didn't. Something told Dean that the confusion over his weirdness was genuine and Dean would just pay closer attention and maybe they'd stumble on it together.

"I'm sorry, Dean, for being… weird. Perhaps I'm still adjusting to life after Purgatory. Though I do feel…" Castiel trailed off and Dean still didn't turn. He waited.

When nothing was forthcoming, Dean prompted, "Feel? Talk to me, Man."

Another long moment of silence and then, "I feel as if pieces of me are missing."

At that, Dean sucked in a breath and rolled over; the rustling of the sheets was loud in the dim room. He took in Castiel's slumped, nervous silhouette and pushed himself to a sitting position. He reached out and laid a hand gently on Castiel's thigh.

"Tell me."

Castiel met his eyes in the darkness and somehow, (angelically, Dean would assume) he could still see the blue; they seemed to be almost backlit. Dean had only really seen Castiel's eyes glow from within a handful of times and never really had he looked for it. It was one of those things that if you didn't think about it, or didn't look hard enough, you'd miss it. It was beautiful though, and Dean reached up one calloused hand to trace two fingers around Castiel's eye socket, ghosting over eyelids, down his sharp nose before eventually resting on the angel's cheek. Castiel leaned into the caress and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, they were back to normal and Castiel was just a deeper shadow among shadows. Grey in the night like the rest of room.

Castiel opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Guys!"

Dean groaned at Sam's urgent call and slammed his head back against the thin plaster of the wall. _Dammit, Sammy! _Every_ time!_

Dean moved to get up and push himself off the bed, but Castiel was already up and waving a hand to open the door. Dean stood slower and stretched, still dressed in his clothing from earlier, with only his boots and over shirt discarded.

Sam limped into the room, the dead weight of a tiny form hanging at his side. Dean's mouth fell open, understandably startled. Not expecting the now frail, gaunt form of the petite brunette that they were all too familiar with.

"Meg," Castiel observed.

Meg lifted up her head and winced, Dean grimaced in sympathy (despite his best efforts) when he saw her. If anything, her face made it more apparent just how tormented she had been. Her pale skin was dappled with welt and bruise after welt and bruise. Her legs were held awkwardly, as if it were an effort just to make them move. She was sickly thin, little more than skin over frail bone. Meg had always been curvy in the past (and yeah, Dean had to admit, hot in this meat-suit) but now she was just a shadow of that.

"Hiya Clarence, miss me?" Meg still managed to purr out, her previously full lips curling up into what under normal circumstances would have been a coy, flirty smirk.

"How did you get out? More importantly, why the fuck are you here?" Dean demanded, still not over his shock at her presence and appearance but wanting answers nonetheless.

Sam eased her into one of the chairs at the small dining table and she collapsed into it gratefully, her legs sprawling ungainly.

"To help you, douche-wad, why else? I dragged my broken ass out of the pit just to find you, baby-cakes." She drew in a rattling breath and Dean recognized it as the sound of someone who had blood in their lungs.

"_Why_?" Dean gritted.

"Oh Dean-o, we're old pals, you and I. I always like helping out an old pal. Besides, I'm still on my screw Crowley broken and bloody mission, you're the only idiots I trust with it – as sad as that is."

Dean stared at her calculatingly; yes, they'd worked together in the past, though Dean wouldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. He hadn't forgiven her, not by a long shot even with the help she had provided in the past. She'd done too much shit for that.

"Okay," Dean said slowly, "how did you get out? What's to say you aren't a Crowley plant to get at us?"

Meg eased back on the chair and rolled her head towards Dean, still smirking. "I still got friends in low places, Dean. I would have been out earlier but the bastard 'king' took out my advanced guard. It took them a bit to get to me."

Sam, Dean and Castiel shared brief looks. What he saw on Sam's face very likely mirrored Dean's own, the darkness of the memories of all that Meg had done. Castiel though, his face was carefully blank and Dean found that infuriating. He knew that Cas had developed a twisted sort of fondness for the demon and he knew it was mostly his fault, but he figured with Castiel's head back on straight, he would have left that behind.

Dean was surprised when Sam chose to say, "All right, fine. But we don't expect you to do this out of the goodness of your heart, Meg, so what's in it for you besides screwing Crowley?"

"Wait, you're falling for this, Sam?" Dean asked incredulously. "After all she did? Remember way back when, when we were looking for Dad? She nearly killed us all. Not to mention she took you over and played out her own special brand of a marionette show and she killed Jo and Ellen. Don't you think we've given this bitch too much leeway as it is? As I see it, we're finally close to getting rid of you, Meg, and that's more than enough for me. Should be for all of us."

"Why are you still in the same vessel?" Castiel asked suddenly, startling them all.

Meg's smirk curled up more and, with noticeable effort, she rolled up her sleeve. "They used my own dirty tricks against me." There, between all the bruising and wounds, stridently untouched was a small lock symbol branded into Meg's skin. "Look, I can tell you the info, or I can't. It's up to you. Let's just say Crowley wasn't too subtle when he was going over his master plan because, arrogant bastard that he is, he probably figured I'd never make it out. I think he forgets that next to him, I'm one of the most powerful demons left and I want to be on your team."

"Of course," Castiel said quickly before either Winchester could jump in, "we would be greatly appreciative of any information you can provide."

Despite obvious pain and the fact that had she been human she'd probably be dead long ago, Meg still managed to leer. "Oh yeah? How appreciative, Angel?"

Dean stepped forward and splayed a hand protectively across Castiel's chest, his voice harsh when he said, "Not _that_ appreciative."

"Oh, I see you two are back in the 'on-again' phase of your relationship. Too bad, I could have given you a hell of a night, Clarence. But really, this info is practically free and you'll like what I want in return, I promise."

"Oh, is that so?" Dean asked clearly skeptical.

"I give you the goods and, in return, you kill me," Meg said, serious for the first time.

"Done!" Dean said quickly. "It's a deal, hopefully you don't want a kiss. Now spill."

"Dean," Castiel said, his tone chastising.

"Why would you want us to kill you, Meg?" Sam asked, clearly surprised. "You tend to be a fight to survive type."

"Look, Crowley wants me back, I'm his main competition and that advanced guard of mine he wiped out was also most of my loyalists. He's not gonna stop until he has me back and then he isn't gonna stop carving until he gets bored and, despite contrary belief, Crowley doesn't get bored too easily. He enjoys torture almost as much as Alistair, and you and me both know how much that was, Dean."

Dean winced.

"If I die, I win. He doesn't break me and I get to go down in demon history as a martyr. You guys get your intel and you stop that snarky little cockney asshole before he gets what he's after."

"And what's that?" Dean asked.

Meg let out another rattling breath and said, "Look, I'd hazard a guess that the half of the tablet he managed to snatch up was a hell of a lot more informative than yours, if you Neanderthals are still here twiddling your thumbs. Closing the gates permanently is a multi-tiered project, which means it can't happen overnight. Crowley's finding each vital point and he's protecting them, warding them with any form of magic you can think of because there's no way in hell (or whatever) that he's letting you through. Capiche? The first gate is at the bottom of that life-saving little underground lake below Faith's Leap. After all, through water is one way into Hell. You stop them and you're one step closer to your life-long goal. So, who wants to do the honours?"

Dean pulled the demon-killing knife out from under his pillow and approached gladly. Sam stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Wait," the taller man said. "Is that it, Meg? You just know about the one door?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "For now, you can't exactly run the tablet through Google Translate. It's taking them time, but they are figuring it out. Apparently they got some angel-boy on tether who somehow managed to weasel his way through the text. Don't ask me how."

"Perhaps The Word is not so impenetrable when the tablet is in pieces," Castiel mused.

"Apparently they can only read the translations for particular places. They managed to figure out it was around this area and took the logical step to figuring it was the only tiny town that was raised by a miracle in the middle of a desert."

"All right, great. Now where do you want it?" Dean moved to approach again, only to be stopped once more by Sam.

"This is your lucky day, Meg," Sam said grimly.

"Wait… What?" Meg asked flatly.

"We need a man on the inside, or in your case, a demon. So we aren't going to kill you. We're going to send you back and you can find out more for us."

"No way, nuh uh, no _fucking_ way, you sadistic fucks can _not_ send me back there? Dean, come on. Cas? You know what he's capable of, you know what it's like. I _want_ to be killed, you want to kill me, we're all happy, aren't we?"

"I know I sure as shit am," Dean said easily.

"Dean, Sam does have a point. We need the other half of the tablet and though their translation may have been an anomaly, it is not necessarily one. What's to say we kill Meg as she wishes and Crowley does go on to translate more? We will not always have the luck of your friend Charlie finding oddities, demons can and will keep hidden. Also, I must rescue this angel and it would be helpful to do so if someone was nearby and already planted – so to speak. Meg can help me rescue the angel and keep us informed of Crowley's doings."

"Okay, I really thought we'd all had enough of working with demons because it's _always_ worked out so well for us in the past. What are you two, insane?" Dean snarled.

"Says the guy who's BFFs with a vampire," Sam sneered.

"Wow, Dean-o, I'm shocked," Meg remarked, that infuriating smirk back on her face though the fear was still in her eyes.

"Stay out of this, Peanut-Gallery," Dean snapped. He turned to Sam and Cas. "We are not bringing Benny into this right now. He ain't the first Carebear with fangs we've come across – remember Lenore and her nest before they were all wiped out? This is about demons. Fucking _demons_ and their fucking deals and their fucking back-stabbing. Never have we worked with one and had it turn out _well_ for us."

"What the hell, Dean? A year ago you were all gung-ho about sending Nurse Ratched here in with Castiel. Now suddenly we aren't trusting her? She could _help_ us, Dean!"

"Dad, Jo, Ellen, _you._ Ring any bells, Sam?"

"Yeah and add babysitter to Castiel, Crowley, and Dick to that list. I'm not saying I am ever going to be okay with what she did to us, Dean, but lately she's done a hell of a lot more good than bad. This wouldn't be the first monster gone light-side in our history, Dean, and I'm sick to death of your fucking double standards." Sam snapped. He turned to Cas, "Clean her up, Cas. Just heal the inside and make the brand on her arm null and void, that way we can summon her when we want info."

Meg pressed back into her chair and tried to raise her arms defensively. "No, I did _not_ agree to this."

"Too bad," Sam said with a shrug. "Cas?"

"I'll try, I've never attempted to heal a human vessel occupied by a demon before."

"Dean!" Meg cried out, her tone and eyes pleading. "Dean! Kill me, _please_."

Dean would have, he really would have, because one less monster from their past in the world was no skin off his nose, but unfortunately he could see Sam's point (even if he would never admit it out loud). And also, if Castiel was determined enough, he would never let Dean through. Hell, the angel wouldn't even break a sweat stopping him. Dean could also imagine all the horrible, twisted ways that Crowley would torture her. Didn't even have to imagine really, Crowley was a creative son of a bitch and Dean had first-hand knowledge of just what you could do down there in the pit. The thought alone made his stomach roll and bile leech into his throat but he bit it back and looked away.

"No," Meg whispered.

"This may kill you yet, Meg," Castiel offered soberly in that tone he used when he tried to be comforting but missed it by a mile. "If it does, I am sorry. If it doesn't, I am also so very sorry."

Castiel pressed two fingers against Meg's forehead and at the flare of light, Dean had to turn away, or perhaps that was just the excuse he used to not have to watch. When he looked back, Meg was slumped limply on the chair. Castiel caught her just before she slid to the floor and placed her gently on the bed.

"She survived then?" Dean said flatly.

"Yes, though the vessel is unoccupied aside from her. The girl within was dead a long, long time ago. I sent her on to her eternal rest," Castiel replied.

"Good," Sam said, slightly gleeful. "We may actually pull this thing off now."

Dean didn't share his brother's joy. "Take her to the outskirts of town, Cas, Crowley's boys should manage to find her and pick her up. If this goes sour it's on you two. I need some air."

Just before the door shut behind him, Dean heard the flutter of Castiel's wings as he did as he was told. Dean tried to ignore the piercing burn of his brother's stare at his back. Dean just hoped this was another thing they wouldn't live to regret.

xx

Dean came back to the hotel room nearly two hours later. Sam was long gone and off to do his own thing but Castiel had returned. He was sitting on the bed and leafing through the Bible. He didn't look up when Dean entered but Dean knew full well that Castiel knew that he had come back. Dean set his keys down quietly and shrugged out of his coat, laid it across the back of the nearest chair, and walked over to where Castiel reclined. He set a white bag down on the bed as a peace offering and Castiel stared at it curiously.

"Thought you'd want a whole one. I stopped on my way back," Dean said with a shrug. When Castiel still didn't touch the bag, Dean rolled his eyes and snatched it back up. He dug inside for one burger and handed it to Castiel, taking the other one for himself. He settled down next to the angel on the bed and began to eat.

Castiel stared for a moment longer at the treat. He plucked at the wrapper but didn't open it. Dean sent him a sidelong look and waited. He knew the look Castiel had when he was gearing up to say something and the blue-eyed man was wearing it now.

"I…" Castiel began haltingly, then huffed at himself. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to… make you angry. I know how you feel about… deals."

Dean sighed heavily and set down his own burger, he nodded slowly but didn't look at Castiel when he said, "Yeah, well, you don't have to agree with me all the time I suppose. I shouldn't be surprised really, it's not like you ever agree with me all that much. Usually the damned voice of reason. I was thrown, that's all. I didn't expect you to agree to do what Sam suggested, not after—" Dean didn't say anymore. He didn't have to and frankly didn't want to. Castiel didn't want to hear it anyway. He had enough guilt without Dean bringing it up every time they spoke. After everything that had gone down in the last few years, Dean learned that sometimes it was best just to keep his mouth shut.

"Yes Dean, I know I don't have to agree with you all the time. Though I should have learned by now that it's prudent to discuss matters of that nature before agreeing so readily. This is a risky move and I suppose a part of me is so eager to make up for past transgressions that I wanted to take any opportunity I found to expedite the process. I should have learned that the quickest way is also the best way to land in a mess."

"Sometimes," Dean offered.

Castiel smiled. "Sometimes?"

"Yeah, Meg's a bitch, and I'm pissed at her for coming on to you, but that's my drama. I really don't think she'll let us down, though we might get her killed. Will you be all right with that?"

"No," Castiel replied honestly. "Death is never something to take lightly, regardless of the species it happens to. I will, however, be able to move past it. She was a good caretaker when I needed her, but I don't anymore."

"Yeah," Dean took a quick and large bite of his burger causing the rest of the sentence to come out garbled, "'cuzyuhgawdmeh."

Castiel smiled but didn't call Dean on it. Instead he finally opened his now cold meal and took a bite with relish. Dean flipped on the television and looked around for something decent – or half decent. He was lucky enough to find _Dr. Sexy_ and settled back against the headboard.

xx

The next morning they were driving into town to see what they could find. Dean was tired, his four hours cut way shorter than he would have liked, but he was functional. Castiel kept sending him concerned little glances which Dean chose to ignore and resisted the urge to rub scratchy eyes once again.

"Dean, I could have—"

"Not gonna risk Angel Air, Cas. We have no idea what kind of blockades the demons have set up to ward against you guys. Don't want you flying in there and going limp when it can be avoided. I'll be fine as soon as the caffeine kicks in, no sweat."

The coffee he had made at the motel that morning was not at all satisfying and Dean was afraid it wouldn't do the trick. It had the vague consistency of dishwater and Dean was more a motor oil guy with a paint thinner undertone. In other words: fucking dark and fucking strong. He wasn't about to let Castiel know any of this though; the only diner that was nearby had been in the opposite direction and Dean was too tired to worry about it. He settled for thin coffee and a day old pastry.

A few moments later as they approached Faith's Leap, Dean was immediately glad of his earlier choice to not let Castiel fly them in as soon as Castiel shouted out a firm, "Stop!"

That caused Dean to instinctively slam on the breaks. The car skidded and fishtailed wildly on loose gravel and Dean glared daggers at the side of Castiel's head.

"What the bloody fuck, Dude?" Dean snarled.

"You were right," Castiel said grimly.

"Huh? Need a little more to go on than that, Cas."

"Look." Castiel pressed a finger to Dean's temple and held it there for a few seconds, when Dean blinked, he saw the ground surrounding the town's border a blazing, blue, neon line of cryptic symbols. When he blinked again, it was just plain old dirt and scrub.

"The hell…?" Dean muttered, more to himself than Castiel.

"I gave you a brief glimpse through the veil," Castiel replied regardless. "It was easier than explaining. The entire town and surrounding locale appears to be completely warded. I can enter but I certainly wouldn't be leaving and would be 'limp' as you feared."

"Jesus," Dean muttered. Castiel didn't bother with a return quip and Dean figured that was a sign of just how serious the whole situation was. "So," Dean added, "you can't help."

"Not in the traditional sense," Castiel explained. "I wonder why Meg didn't mention the warding."

"Maybe the bitch is in Crowley's pocket after all," Dean replied grimly.

Castiel shook his head. "I'd have known, but perhaps we weren't as clever as we hoped to be. Crowley may have realized what we'd done. Or maybe they're closer to whatever it is they're after and decided to increase security."

"Either way, we're fucked."

"That's an eloquent way of putting it, yes."

Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel's own brand of humour and sighed heavily. He sent a text to Sam, explaining what they found and said they'd have to regroup in order for Dean and Sam to go in separate from Castiel. The younger Winchester had been trying to work his way onto the archaeological dig team in the meantime.

"The dig site itself may not be as strongly warded," Castiel mused, eye narrowed in thought. "It would be risky to put up that much protection around so many demons and humans. Especially if they're searching for a Hell's Gate, which is powerful magic in and of itself. Sometimes, so much combined power distorts the air and you may not actually realize what's going on, but you'd feel enough to make you uncomfortable. It's much the same as if you ever walk and suddenly get a cold shiver. Your physiology's detecting something your more potent senses can't."

"Well, we need to find the dig site first."

"Agreed."

xx

Dean wanted to make use of their demon on speed dial but Castiel and Sam both turned the idea down. Now, Dean just thought this was ridiculous because they were the ones to push for keeping her around in the first place. They both thought it was too soon to call her back up and that was the end of that. Then Dean had a very uncomfortable thought and he wondered why none of them had thought of this earlier.

"Guys, what if when we do call her back she just runs on us, huh? There's gonna be nothing forcing her back into her meat suit so she'll be smoked and free and inside the skin of some other poor woman."

Sam paused and shared Dean's look but Castiel, casual as ever, didn't turn his gaze away from the book balanced in his palm.

"That shouldn't be a concern," Castiel remarked. "I made a provision under her skin when I healed her; I built it right into the demon form. She's tethered, you could say. She can only come when we call and she can only go back to her vessel when she leaves our devil trap. No other way but down."

Dean settled back in his chair and nodded slowly. Now it really did feel as if they had her on a leash, because when it came right down to it – they did. Dean gnawed his lip and was very quiet, his thoughts whirring and not sure what to make of them treating Meg like their own personal property.

Sure, she was a skanky, demon bitch but she had been human once. Putting her out of her misery would have been the kindest course of action, even if she didn't necessary deserve kindness. But did she deserve what she was getting in Crowley's domain? When he thought of who was the lesser evil, Meg, despite all she had done, still took that dubious honour because one thing she was, was loyal. Crowley had tricked and manipulated them all. Meg was at least honest about her scheming, if that could be said.

"What do we do if we stop him?" Dean asked.

Sam and Castiel looked at him.

"I mean what if we pull this off, what happens then? Do we have to constantly be looking over our shoulders for the door we just closed to be busted open? Or does it end? What if we succeed in getting rid of Crowley but the hell gates are still open? Do we leave the demons to their own devices or do we help Meg get the top job?"

"Devil you know," Sam said.

"In the literal sense," Castiel sighed. "I'm not sure how to answer you, Dean. If we never recover the other half of the tablet, we may never have an answer. It may just come down to us chasing the demon's breadcrumbs and cleaning up what messes we are able. I hate to admit this, but they do have more resources than us. If… _when_… I get Samandiriel back, we may put the odds further in our favour, but that's not to say we'll be at a great advantage."

"Samandiriel?" Dean asked suddenly.

Castiel blinked. "Ah… yes."

"He has Samandiriel? How do you know?"

"I…" Castiel hesitated, his eyes flickering from Dean to Sam before resting solidly on Dean once again, "I just know."

"Cas, no bullshitting me, Man, we've talked about this."

"But I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry. I just know that they have Samandiriel. That is the angel that was taken and that is who I am to retrieve."

Dean and Sam shared a look; the way it was worded made both of their insides squirm. Castiel was talking like an angel. Castiel hadn't done that in years.

"Um," Sam tried, "must have picked up a stray transmission on Angel Radio."

"You turn it back on, Cas?" Dean said, his tone demanding.

"I… perhaps…" Castiel took on that panicked expression that Dean hated to see. Once again, wide blue eyes were flitting between both brothers and the angel looked almost scared.

"Perhaps unconsciously, I've been tuned in more than not throughout my existence. I may have been instinctive in a moment of distraction."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said quickly. "That totally makes sense, you probably smacked the dial back when we almost ran into that warding wall earlier. Well, hey, good on you, then. We have more information than we did. So Samandiriel, huh? Guess the poor sap got snapped up at the auction."

"You speak as if you've met him," Castiel remarked.

"Dude, I did," Dean said with a shrug.

"When?" Sam frowned. "First time you've mentioned the name."

"Alfie, Man. The kid from the auction," Dean replied. "You know, teen angel? I told you, didn't I? He was the kid at the auction in the wiener uniform. He was sitting next to Crowley. Bid like the Pope or something."

"No, Dean, you didn't. I remember the guy but you never said he was an angel," Sam shook his head.

"Huh," Dean shrugged.

"What did Samandiriel have to say?" Castiel asked urgently, the ferocity behind it surprising Dean.

"Ah…" Dean remembered, clear as a bell. He knew exactly what the angel had said and it was probably one of the most revealing sentences of his life, at least since he'd met Castiel. It had been those small words that had sent everything clicking in place for Dean and he'd found himself agreeing whole-heartedly.

"Nothing big," Dean answered finally, skirting the truth, "just asked if you made it out."

"Oh," Castiel remarked quietly.

"That's it?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Yeah, that was the essence of it," Dean replied, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his tone. The other stuff wasn't really relevant anyway.

xx

Dean was lying on his side in the near darkness of the motel room, his naked back to Castiel. Castiel was still fully clothed and sitting up on the bed, the blue glow of the television flickering into lighter and darker shades now and again. The volume was so low that Dean couldn't hear it, but he was sure Castiel was able to, if he even bothered to listen.

"You aren't asleep, Dean."

Dean sighed in response and turned over onto his back, rolling his head on the pillow to look at the angel who had yet to turn away from the screen.

"You're right."

"Of course, I am. Would you like to… talk about it?" The question came out hesitantly, as if Castiel was uncertain of the words. After all, for all of Dean's emotional constipation, when it came to actual meaningful conversation, Castiel was far, far worse. Angels never really did the whole talking thing and Castiel only just got used to it again after being so reticent the last couple years.

"It's stupid," Dean muttered.

"Regardless, I'll listen."

Dean snorted. "Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel in the dim light; though his face remained relatively stoic he had a teasing glint to his eye which caused Dean to smirk and shake his head lightly.

"You win," Dean sighed.

"Generally."

"I dunno, Dude, I guess just after Purgatory, I hate going in anywhere that's unknown without my wing-man, you know? I mean I had to when you were still stuck down there, but since you got back I'm more comfortable with you on my team."

"I'm always on your team."

Dean rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, I know but more than metaphorically. I want you physically on my team. If we were in gym class you'd totally be the first kid I'd pick."

"I believe I should be thanking you for a compliment in there somewhere," Castiel remarked tentatively.

Dean huffed, "What I'm saying, Man, is I don't feel right leaving you on the bench because of those damn symbols. You're our trump card when worse comes to worse. I just feel – _dammit –_ I feel safer with you there."

"You'll have, Sam."

"Yeah, 'course, but I'm used to a team of three. Being down a guy is not helping my comfort level with this fucked up case. This is messy shit we're dealing with. If the info's right, it's a hell gate. Just really wish I had the angel on my shoulder for this one."

Castiel was quiet for a moment and then he nodded. "All right, it will take more time that we can really afford, but if that is really how you feel, I may be able to break the warding from the outside. I'll have to inspect it."

"That's dangerous, Cas."

"Most things we do are, Dean."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

"I hadn't intended to, you heard perfectly, I'm sure."

Dean chuckled and shook his head, then said, "All right, I'll see what Sam thinks over breakfast. We still have to find the dig anyway and somehow get ourselves on board. It'll be a little tricky because every demon in creation knows who we are, but we'll manage."

xx

They didn't.

Together they assumed, most likely correctly, that it would be far too much risk to try and join the dig undercover. There was no way they were hiding who they were from demons, and no amount of fake mustaches or wigs would keep them under wraps. It was one of the perks of having been both Heaven and Hell's most wanted on several different occasions. They were the nightmares monsters whispered to their children about. In Supernatural circles, they were Kardashian famous. The reference made Dean grimace but it was pretty damn true.

"So we infiltrate," Sam opined.

"How exactly is that going to be any less dangerous than going undercover?" Dean asked.

"Well, the main way is that we try not to get seen," Sam retorted.

"It will prove to be quite the challenge," Castiel added grimly.

Dean gnawed his lip for a moment then turned to Castiel. "Are Alfie and Meg even being held at the dig site or are they at another location?"

"We'd have to ask her. She implied that she was at the dig site, but just because she implied doesn't mean anything. I imagine at this stage that Crowley wishes to be there 24-7, and it would stand to reason that he's kept Meg and Samandiriel with him. It's difficult to be certain though."

"Summoning it is," Sam sighed.

Dean wished they had just asked her this when they called her sorry ass upstairs the first time but that was before they realized Castiel couldn't get into the town.

"Would Crowley risk transporting them just to keep all his toys together? He has places to stash people all over the country, why mix business with ah… other business?"

"I imagine there is Enochian anti-demon warding on the hell gate to prevent them from destroying the seal. Hell gates aren't a free pass from either side, they need a hole or a crack to let demons through or they need to be opened. There are soft spots all over the world that allow resilient demons to escape Hell, but as you know a hell gate entrance bursts the dam and it is far, far easier for them to escape from," Castiel said.

"All right, so that explains ah… the angel-guy," Sam said, "but Meg?"

"Would you leave Meg out of your sight, only attended by lesser creatures?" Castiel put forward.

"Point," Sam said. "All right, so we call her, see if she can give us any insight about the internal layout of the dig, including where the guards are and where Alfie and the tablet are kept. After that's done, Dean and I will head into the town and see if we can get the GPS coordinates of the dig and check it out from a distance while you, Cas, attempt to break the anti-angel sigils. If you can't, Dean and I will have to go in alone, but with any luck you'll break them."

xx

"I'm not going back there," Meg panted the moment she appeared in the devils trap. She collapsed gratefully into the chair that Castiel had thoughtfully placed within it. She was in a borrowed and fresh body, still a petite brunette with sultry eyes, but the wounds to her true form were fresh in her psyche.

"Meg—" Sam began.

"I'm not. I don't care if I have to rip myself to shreds trying to get out of this damned devil's trap but I am not _fucking_ going back there. You hear me? If you're going to make me, I'm not going to tell you shit and there isn't a fucking thing you can do about it to change my mind."

Dean rolled his eyes, not at all surprised that the events took this turn. "Fine Meg, I'll kill you after you tell us what we want to know."

"Dean!" Sam shouted aghast.

"Sam, seriously, what use is she really going to be down there? She'll give us what we need to know for this job and then we'll go back to the old fashioned way. It isn't that big of a deal."

Meg actually smiled and, for once, Dean could tell it was genuine.

"Thanks," the demon said softly.

Dean felt Castiel's eyes on him and he saw the cool, deceptively indifferent stare the angel was giving him. Dean ignored it for the moment; he knew Castiel wasn't too happy with Dean's murder declaration but if that's what Meg wanted, that's what she was going to get. It wasn't like them to throw her to the dogs, regardless of her species and it had been gnawing at Dean since they did it.

Purgatory had given Dean a fresh perspective and, if he had a healthier appreciation for one thing, it was what slow torture could do to a person. Of course, he had experienced it first-hand thanks to Alistair and he would never not have those memories, but Purgatory added a new layer to everything – the lengths someone was willing to go to get exactly what they wanted - and Dean would not be party to it any longer. He couldn't.

He was trying to better, not fall back on old habits. He had to be better because if he wasn't he was terrified he'd lose more things he cared about. Granted, Meg wasn't one of those things, but that didn't mean she deserved what Crowley was doing to her. This brought him right back to the topic at hand, because there was another creature in the King's clutches who didn't deserve what he was undoubtedly receiving.

"That angel and you, did Crowley bring you guys with him? Were you being held near the gate?" Dean demanded.

Meg blinked slowly. "I didn't see much of the angel but I certainly heard him and I could smell him. Ozone and fresh rain. Only things I know that smell clean when they bleed."

Castiel winced and looked away. Dean resisted the urge to reach out and squeeze his shoulder. Their own little sign of affection and comfort when something more intimate wasn't possible. Castiel did the same to Dean, always on the same shoulder that bore the faded, barely-visible handprint from his rescue.

Meg continued, "Thin walls, Crowley's fond of those, I heard the angel screaming. I could also hear shouting, digging, and large machinery so yeah, it's a pretty good bet that I was at the gate."

"Any idea of the layout?" Castiel asked hopefully.

Meg closed her eyes and thought. "Brief glimpses when I smoked out. I think the angel was held in the room next to mine. Makeshift rooms really, just separated by rough steel partitions. After he was done with the angel, Crowley would visit me sometimes. When he did, he always came in from the north entrance. There was one to the east as well but he came in from that when the angel had been quiet. I think my room was closer to the main dig site. The noise always got louder when Crowley came in from the east-side door. There's gotta be a door from the main area leading into the angel's room too, though, because sometimes I wouldn't see Crowley but I would still hear the angel screaming."

"All right, good, that's good," Castiel said soothingly.

"Anything else you remember, Meg?" Sam asked with nowhere near the gentleness of Castiel. Dean let them take the lead on this one and settled back in a chair near the beds. He was still turned towards them and watching, but removed.

"The road, when they brought us in, was really rough. They used these old blue vans - cube vans, had to be, there was nothing in the back. I rode in with a few demon lackeys and I'm pretty sure there were a few humans with the angel guy in the other van. I guess that's why the demons didn't all smoke in. Also, probably because they had to look legit. There was another canvas-covered military style truck I think, that probably had the gear in it.

"I know we came in through Faith's Leap, I could sense the shift in the air, drove clear through and then hit that rough road I mentioned. We were on it for about forty-five minutes and it just kept getting hotter in that truck. And believe me, there isn't anything less pleasant than rank demon," Meg wrinkled her nose.

"Demons don't get hot or cold," Sam said.

"Don't have to tell me that, Bullwinkle, but doesn't mean the human body we're riding in doesn't react to the environment. Just because I can't feel it, doesn't mean it's not happening. Sulphur and sweat, you wanna be in that truck?"

"No thanks," Sam grimaced. Dean found himself mirroring the move.

"We didn't turn anywhere, just kept heading straight. When we stopped, the fodder in the truck with me made sure my blindfold and ropes were nice and tight before shoving me out. We went underground, through a tunnel that sloped down then came into a bigger room. I could hear and smell the water, then I was shoved into my cell. That's it. All I got. Now for the love of Lucifer and Lilith, kill me." Meg looked thoroughly exhausted and ready to die.

Dean watched her and made no move to rise, just continued to sit with him arms crossed. Castiel met his eyes, brow furrowed and silently questioning. Dean looked steadily back and waited, Castiel understood that Dean was looking for permission. She was the blue-eyed man's pet demon after all, if Castiel really wanted her to live then Dean would obey, with a few ground rules of course.

"Thank you, Meg. You really have helped us. Now, it's time for you to go," Castiel said calmly.

Sam, who had been silently tracking their wordless conversation widened his eyes. He frowned at Dean and raised a brow. Dean just nodded at Castiel fractionally and Sam turned back to the angel.

"Well, it's been fun, Clarence. If you ever find yourself in Purgatory again, look me up, maybe we'll finally get to know each other," Meg smiled lasciviously and winked.

"Perhaps, if either of us ever do find ourselves there," Castiel smiled gently.

Meg shrugged indifferently and waited. When no one moved she frowned. "What's going on?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Meg," Castiel answered.

"Aww, innit that sweet? Jealous, Dean-o? Cassy likes me too much to kill me. Guess you get to do the honours, Big Boy. I know you'll enjoy it. Did always want to be pricked by you, I'll admit it without shame in my midnight hour," Meg grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you either, Meg."

"Why am I getting the feeling that I missed a memo?" Meg asked cagily, eyes flitting nervously between the three men in the room. "Sam? Did you call this one? Sweet revenge for me taking that tight ass of yours for a joy-ride in our hey-day?"

"Seems we both missed a memo," Sam muttered, eyes narrowed once more.

Dean finally stood and made a show of stretching before he sauntered over to the devil's trap and stepped inside the barrier. He cut her free and stepped back out. "We're letting you go."

Meg stood, shakily. "But you said… You bastards! You tricked me!"

"Meg, no, we didn't," Castiel said. "You don't have to go back to Crowley. That's not what Dean meant. We'll retrieve your other body, providing it is not too damaged and then return with it. You will transfer yourself to the empty vessel and I will remove the memory of both you and the last and next several hours from Miss Leanne Carter's memories. You were gentle when you took her, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Meg said carefully, still guarded and uncertain.

"Good." Dean nodded. "After that, Cas is gonna super-glue you to your other body again and then he's going to fly you wherever in the world you want to go with a handy-dandy pre-packaged hex bag. You get to live on, Meg, tied to your body, but you get to stay. You try any funny business though and we'll fry your ass so crispy you'll _wish_ you were back with Crowley. Don't think we won't be watching, _comprender_?"

"Why?" Meg asked, for once in all the time they had known her, almost meek.

"I'm feeling generous," Dean shrugged. "Look, you're a heinous bitch, but you sure ain't the most heinous we've ever come across. You helped us out these last few years and I will never, ever forget the shit you pulled, but you get a free pass – for now. Don't mean we're gonna put you on a no-hit list with other hunters or anything. You keep your nose clean, we'll have no problems. You don't? Well, if isn't us who get you, then another hunter will. I guarantee it. Now, you sit tight. I'll even turn the TV towards you, we'll be back with your body, then you get the hell out of the US of A. Deal?"

"I…" Meg's gaze flickered over each man in turn, lingering the longest on Castiel and flickering one last quick look to Sam who was positively livid. She stared at the floor and nodded dumbly. Dean saw her swallow but she said nothing else.

"Okay, good. We'll go later tonight. I'm gonna grab a few hours before we head out. Be ready by eleven, Sammy."

"Dean, I want to talk to you," Sam gritted out.

"I'm sure you do, but I'm tired as shit. So I'm crashing now, but you are welcome to hang here and play staring contest with Meg along with Cas. You got this, Cas?"

"Of course," Castiel slid Dean's recently vacated chair over to the edge of Meg's devil's trap. As Dean headed to the bathroom, he turned the television trolley towards Meg and Castiel and tossed the angel the remote. He caught it easily and Dean turned back to the washroom. Before his foot even cleared the threshold, he heard the door of their motel room slam shut as Sam left.

xx

"Well?" Dean whispered. Sam was silent behind them and Castiel was at his side, brow furrowed and eyes tracing over the symbols only he could see around the periphery of the dig site. It was relatively quiet, having been semi-shut down for the night to keep appearances up for the humans. How Crowley had managed to keep the screaming under wraps was anyone's guess but the demon had his ways, no question about that. Dean's stomach rolled and he swallowed.

"I… it will take some time," Castiel replied eventually. "The symbols are intricate."

"How much time?" Dean asked.

"Forty-two minutes," Castiel replied.

"Look, we gotta get in there now," Sam spoke up. "Every minute we wait is another minute we could be found."

Dean opened his mouth to retort but Castiel beat him to the punch

"I agree with Sam," Castiel interrupted. "You must go in now, while it is relatively quiet. I sense only a few demons inside, but I could be wrong. The warding plays with my senses and distorts them. Regardless though, you and Sam are more than capable of handling them. With stealth and persistence you should make it through. I'll join you as soon as I'm able."

Dean gritted his teeth and glared at the sand tinted blue in the moonlight. "It's risky."

"Everything we do is risky, Dean!" Sam said, keeping his tone to an angry hush so as not to alert attention.

Dean stared at his brother, knew the conflict within the younger man. He probably understood it better than anyone, but at the same time he didn't – not really. Yes, what was going on between them now, with Sam still hung up on Amelia and his personal war between happiness or the job was a mirror of Dean's own past with Lisa, to an extent. He had to take a step back and acknowledge that, yes, he wanted the apple pie life for a while. He wanted to be free from the hunt and at peace and maybe he didn't look for Sam. But then again, as soon as Sam showed up Dean was off like a shot. He had craved his brother, missed him in his bones and thought he'd never see him again. Then Sam was back (or Dean thought he was anyway) and Dean may have been rusty but he'd been willing to try. He could look back now and acknowledge that he had missed the life, missed the chase, missed the constant occupation.

"Can you move past this Sam?" Dean asked grimly. "Are we good to pull this off without your shit fucking it up?"

Sam glared. "That isn't fair."

"It's a fair question."

"I'll be fine."

"Good."

"Good."

"Yes, good, now go. You're running out of time," Castiel interrupted their pissing match.

Dean hated being told what to do almost as much as he hated fighting with his brother and since both were occurring simultaneously, Dean was not at all a happy camper at the moment. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, trying to breathe for a moment before he went into what would be undoubtedly a bloody battle.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Castiel staring at him levelly. Dean nodded once, then gestured to his brother. Just because they were arguing didn't mean that Dean didn't trust Sam to watch his back. He was sorry for the whole Amelia situation, but now was not the place to be dwelling on it.

"We good to do this?" Dean asked once more.

"Yeah, we got this," Sam said reservedly but genuine.

"Go, go now, the demon patrolling the perimeter just cleared the corner. I sense one more immediately within but I could be wrong. Be prepared," Cas whispered gruffly.

Dean and Sam scrambled to their feet and across the tightly packed sand. Their boots scuffing on the dirt seemed too loud in the quiet of the night and so did the pounding of the blood in Dean's veins as he ran. He could hear each pulse of it as it circled his body. He kept his breathing as even as he could in the mad sprint and managed to clear the threshold just in time to duck away from the demon at the entrance.

Dean reached out instinctively and pushed Sam against the wall, signaling with his eyes. Sam nodded and let out a slow, silent breath. It had been awhile since they had done something like this. Not since Kevin and tablet, but then they'd had an angel for backup.

Dean tried to stare back out through the darkness and find Castiel amongst the scrub and rocks but he couldn't see that far from the entrance of the tunnel and just hoped the angel was making headway on the sigils.

Dean peered around the support beam they were ducked behind and tried to see how many more demons were nearby. As far as he could tell, there was only the one like Cas had said. He silently asked Sam if he wanted to take care of it but Sam gestured to give Dean the go-ahead. Sam would watch Dean's back while the older Winchester subdued the threat. Dean crept out along the narrow tunnel entrance and curled his hands around the demon guard's mouth, pulling the skinny frame against his own body and stabbing the man in the gut. He laid the demon across the cool earth, wiping the blade of his knife clean on the slain creature's shirt. Dean dodged forward and ducked behind the next support beam at the start of the tunnel's decline. He looked but the tunnel seemed to be clear so far; there was nothing but guttering utilitarian lights strung along the posts holding up the dirt above their heads.

Dean waved Sam on and together the two of them continued down the earthen maw.

It didn't take long for them to reach the end and they heard the dull clanking of machinery long before they saw it. It wasn't as loud as Dean had been expecting and he took that as a good sign. Hopefully, it meant that Crowley had nothing but a skeleton crew working into the wee morning hours.

Dean was about to take another step forward but this time Sam pushed him roughly against the tunnel wall. Sam gestured with narrowed eyes and Dean saw the shadowy forms of two more guards at the bottom of the tunnel. He winced and nodded, gesturing with his chin. Sam would subdue the one on the left while Dean killed the one on the right, then he would help his brother. Sam agreed, jaw clenched and took silent steps forward. He reached out and held his target vice-like, the small frame of the demon guard struggling in Sam's sure grip. Dean sprinted forward and took care of his demon before he could raise the alarm. Dean tossed Sam the knife and Sam sunk the blade firmly into his struggling quarry's chest.

Dean and Sam allowed themselves a few scarce seconds to regroup before Sam tossed the blade back to Dean and they set forward again.

Most of the activity was in the centre of the large cavern that was bigger than Dean realized it would be. By now they could both hear and smell the water like Meg had described. They figured if they were careful, they could skirt the outer edges of the room and go undetected. The demons in the centre seemed too preoccupied with the task to be looking around too often.

Route plotted and frantically demonstrated through hand signals, Dean and Sam were just about to cross the threshold when a loud bang sent them hurtling forward into the cavern and tumbling at the now-staring demons' feet.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean exclaimed. There was no longer a need for stealth.

"At least he got through," Sam said grimly, eyes frantically tracing over the confused looking demons. It seemed to take a while for their startled minds to catch up with the situation because there were several tense moments of stillness during which Dean and Sam managed to scramble to their feet and a few steps away. It wasn't nearly far enough and Dean was just beginning to silently panic when the demons began surging forward. This situation was bad, really, really fucking bad, but Dean and Sam would fight tooth and nail and with any luck they would make it out of this.

Dean raised his blade and Sam cocked his shotgun full of salt. Just as the Winchesters were both about to strike, the demons froze like scared animals and turned wide blackened eyes to the entrance.

Dean felt the charge and sizzle in the air before he saw it. He turned, his eyes widening right alongside the demons' as he finally took in the sight of the tunnel. Sparks were raining down from the caged lights, crackling then bursting a few at a time or in pairs. Dean took an involuntary step back. He _knew_ this.

"What the hell?" Sam managed to mutter, sidling close to Dean's side. "Is it Crowley?"

"No," Dean said, his voice gruff. This unreserved display of power, disregard for the plan or Dean and Sam's safety. Something was seriously wrong.

"Then wha…" Sam's voice faded as Castiel came into view. The angel entered the cavern, lights still flickering and popping behind him. He took in the room and cocked his head to the side. He looked briefly at Dean and Sam before turning his gaze back to the equally shell-shocked demons.

Dean scrabbled frantically at Sam's jacket and began to tug when he saw the fingers of Castiel's right hand twitch as he slowly raised his arm.

"Move, move now," Dean barked. Pushing at his brother and just managing to throw them both behind a stack of steel equipment cases and cover his head.

Even through their makeshift fort and the extra shield of his curled arms, Dean saw the flare of white burn orange-red behind his eyelids. He felt the hair first rise all across his skin before it began to prickle. He curled tighter into himself, squeezing close to Sam and trying to shield as much of his younger brother's large body as he could. They heard the screams and smelled the burning flesh. It seemed to last forever, and even after it was blessedly silent and dark once again, it took them several long heartbeats before they were brave enough to move.

Dean kept Sam pressed behind the cases while he hesitantly uncurled and peered around. Castiel was standing still and silent in the centre of the room; a few lights in the far corner remained untouched, lending just barely enough illumination to see by. Dean released Sam and pushed to his feet.

"Cas?" the green-eyed man asked.

Castiel seemed to twitch but didn't respond.

"Dean… Dean what's wrong?" Sam asked worriedly.

Dean's features hardened, and he didn't meet his brother's worried eyes when he said, "The fucking angels got to him. _Bastards_." The last was whispered, bit out harsh and heartbroken.

Castiel began to unthaw finally and he moved determinedly across the room, heading to the riveted steel doors off to the side. Dean hurried after him, Sam right at his heels. They might be able to knock some sense back into him yet.

Castiel didn't bother with the handle of the door, just blew it clear off its sliders with a minute gesture of his fingers. Dean and Sam rushed after him.

The angel – the very definition of avenging in this moment – paused for only a second at Meg's slowly decaying body before he left it alone and moved towards the other door and gave it the same treatment as the previous one.

Sam paused to free Meg's body and Dean headed after Castiel.

The angel was standing in Samandiriel's rough cell, surveying the surroundings. Crowley, along with the tablet, were long gone but the small angel still in the body of the young man from the Weiner Hut was slumped in his chair, both Enochian and demonic symbols burned right into the wood.

Castiel cocked his head and blinked once. Dean had to cover his eyes once again as white light seared across the surface of the chair. Samandiriel screamed. Dean's stomach rolled and it was a long time before he managed to open his eyes again. Castiel was still in the room, and Samandiriel was awake but panting, staring up at the other angel.

The scream had brought Sam into the room, the taller man was a comforting and sure presence against Dean's back.

"Castiel?" Samandiriel choked out, his expression a mixed bag of uncertainly and disbelief but most of all, so, so much pain. "Castiel, what have they done?"

Castiel reached down and placed a hand firmly on the broken angel's shoulder. Samandiriel flinched. Dean took a half step forward but Sam stopped him with a strong grip on Dean's elbow.

"We must go," Castiel said dully, not looking at Dean or Sam and keeping his hand solidly on Samandiriel's shoulder.

The smaller angel was hunched in on himself, barely lucid and hardly able to stand, evidence of Crowley's torture stark on his skin like a brand but still he managed to mutter, "No, Castiel, no, not you."

"Cas, don—"

Dean was cut off by Castiel's harsh, cold look. A look he hadn't seen on the angel's face in years. A look he had almost forgotten about entirely. Staring at him now was not Cas, it wasn't his friend or his companion, it was Castiel – Angel of the Lord and the realization sent a cold shiver down Dean's spine.

"I do not answer to you, Dean Winchester. I will be in touch when it becomes imperative. Until then, you should have no cause for my services."

"C—"

Then, just like the old days, Castiel was gone with no further word. Dean stared at the space he had occupied and felt bile rise to the back of his throat. He should have known. He should have figured it out. Castiel had been so normal though – except when he wasn't. God, how could Dean have been so stupid? He knew better than to think that life was ever that easy for him. There was one thing though that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. He would get Cas back, no matter what.

"I'll help," was all Sam said, voice firm.

Dean nodded and strode out of the cell. He wasn't losing his angel again.

**End**

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[1] All right, so, as most of you know by now I'm Canadian and am using that form of reference for the First Nations and Native peoples. I'm hesitant to use tribe because that is not politically correct here nor is 'Indian.' However, if my Canadian reference is completely wrong when translated to American I will not get upset if you correct me.


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